
Void
The air is silent and unwavering, while a buzz substitutes its normal liquid movements around all of the material entities that are tossed about the yard. It’s our HVAC unit reminding us we have finally received the so-longed for heat of summer.
In the farthest corners of my vision, this little man stalks his prey. His movements are calculated, shoulder blades tucked in and low to the ground making a visual slow rumble with each step, articulated and soft. He snatches a small bug, chomping through the intermittently shining life that symbolized dusk.
He has made his way through another long day of hunt and play, and now it is time to rest. His slender body lays flat against the still dew ridden ground. Weeks of rainy spring time unrest soaked through the shallowest layers of the earth, helping cool his belly from this long awaited sun.
His fur is as black as the void, but in the summer light you can see the tawny undertones, representing his many ancestors of perfect predators before him. He revels, proud of his simple accomplishments of the day, and for a moment, I too find myself able to kick back and appreciate the similar opportunities that can be so easily taken for granted.
The Last Wave
The ocean recedes
Breathe in deeply
Retract the knife
and something commences
Before the crimson is a moment of silence
The skin still clean, the water still blue
The blade the only evidence
This feat falters for just a second
As the heart grips tight
To what? It doesn’t know anymore
So it slowly loses might
And the moment ends
The feat resuming
The blood rushing
Like the ocean’s release
Like a final exhale
and only you witness this
Only you stand on this beach
Unrequited Love
I was on top of the world,
and I didn’t expect to fall
when you let me down gently.
I ride my grief and relief
like a tidal wave,
fighting to keep
myself from sinking.
I wonder where you put those kind words I gave to you?
Maybe they rolled off your walls,
or maybe they slipped through the cracks in your heart.
Where do lost words go,
where nothing ever sticks?
I’m ready to let go,
not of you, but of myself,
of a heart too heavy for this body.
I stand at the edge of us,
clawing you out of me.
I bottle you up and keep you in glass,
and call it setting both of us free.
If I was a river
If i was a suicide note
Youd be the pen
If i was a last text
Youd hit the send
If i was skinnier maybe youd see me then
If i was a river
You'd be a dam
Id flow right over into your hands
Why is it true youre all i want again
If i was a shadow
youd be the light
If i went to heaven
Youd be the flight
If i turned my back, im sure youd have the knife
You might see me
But you dont need me
Feed me
Like youre the air that i breathe
I wanna love you,
but idk how to
Found you
But youre not the you that i know
To Adam
I owe it to myself
and to you, I guess, in a far more impermanent form than I
to rejoice your life where death now deputizes
remembering a cascading smile and an unapologetic laugh,
an unapologetic look, warmth in a friendly embrace, that welcomed my adolescence.
your form so honest and genuine, accepting of all things weary, tattered, perfect and imperfect, dismantled by the hand of man
no longer here
and where am I to you?